


Would you bleed for me?

by scalira



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sire Bond, character injury, fuck camille, raphael claiming simon as his own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalira/pseuds/scalira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon can feel himself heat with anger. Camille used him yet again and now she’s trying to kill Raphael and this is all his fault and literally the whole entire world would be better off without that bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Would you bleed for me?

**Author's Note:**

> I love Raphael claiming Simon a lot ok :)))

Simon never even knew he had some kind of sick bond with Camille until she told him. He’d never felt it, had never sensed her in his mind or have her talk to him, in his dreams or when he was awake. So, at first, it’s hard for him to believe that this Sire bond is actually a real thing and not something she just made up.

But a few days after their escape from the clan, she makes contact with him.

It’s through a dream, equally subtle as it is terrifying. He was dreaming about Raphael, which seems to be happening a lot lately. He blinked and suddenly Camille was standing behind Raphael, a red fingernail tracing the pattern on the shoulder of his suit. When Simon blinked again, she was gone.

It could easily be dismissed as a nightmare. After all, Camille is a scary creature, one nightmares could be made of. And she’s out there, roaming the streets, seeking vengeance. So yeah, Simon’s mind could’ve totally just come up with her image to process his fear of her.

It’s a logical explanation. One that Simon could’ve believed if he hadn’t woken up with the taste of blood in his mouth and Camille’s touch still lingering on his skin, burningly cold and horrible.

He doesn’t tell anyone about it. Doesn’t think they need to know. What purpose will this knowledge serve them, how could Camille visiting him in his dreams possibly help them with getting Jace back or stopping Valentine?

So he keeps it to himself and pretends like it’s gonna be a one-time thing.

It isn’t.

The second time she visits him in a dream, she stays for a little while longer. She places herself on a couch, gracefully crosses her legs. Her gaze is hungry when she looks at Raphael, who’s standing by the bar.

Simon wants to ask her why she’s here, what she wants, but his throat is screwed shut. He seems to be frozen in his own dream and is only capable of watching her just _sit_ there.

He wakes with the taste of blood in his mouth and her touch lingering on his skin. No matter how hard he scrubs himself in the shower, breaking skin and drawing blood, the feeling won’t go away.

Clary notices he’s acting different and confronts him about it. Simon tells her he’s been having trouble sleeping, which isn’t technically a lie. She still looks at him weirdly, like she doesn’t quite believe him, but doesn’t ask again.

The third time she walks into his dream, Simon is prepared. He doesn’t let her sit down before he snarls: “What are you doing here?”

Camille’s head snaps up, as if she didn’t even notice him. Then a sly smile creeps up her face.

“Would you look at that. The toy can talk.”

“I’m not your toy,” Simon growls. His fists are shaking.

“Are you not? Because the definition of a toy is an object to be played with. And you, my dear, are _exactly that_. You’re a toy and I’m playing with you.”

Simon wants to kill her. He has never in his entire life wanted to kill someone as badly as he wants to kill her right now. He just wants to rip her head off her shoulders, stake her through the heart or drag her to hell himself.

Camille cocks a bow.

“You want to kill me,” she states flatly.

“Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to kill you?”

“Oh,” she says with an icy laugh, “getting defensive, are we? Well, my little play thing, you’re not the only one with a desire to kill.”

She gets off the couch, swaying her hips as she goes. She strides towards Raphael, gets behind the couch he’s sat on and cups his cheeks.

And she snaps his neck.

Simon wakes up with _actual blood_ in his mouth and he sits up to throw it up, soiling his sheets with it. His stomach clenches and unclenches in the aftermath of the dream, Camille’s touch is still lingering on the sensitive skin of his neck and Simon scrubs at it in the shower until his skin is red and raw. The taste of blood lingers in his mouth the entire day, and somehow he knows it isn’t his.

It’s Raphael’s.

***

Camille doesn’t visit him in his dreams anymore, and he should be grateful for that. Except, he isn’t. He’s terrified. He thinks maybe she succeeded in _actually_ killing Raphael and is back to being the leader of the clan and doesn’t need to torment Simon out of boredom anymore. He tries to calm himself by thinking Magnus would’ve told him if Raphael was dead and the Clave would’ve been given a notice to say Camille had reclaimed her position as leader. Since neither of those things happened, it should be safe to assume that Raphael is still alive.

Simon is still sick with worry, though.

The worst thing is probably that he can’t even go to warn him. Raphael put a kill order on his head and he’ll be killed on the spot if he dares to enter vampire territory again, so he wouldn’t even make it to Raphael before being ripped to shreds. So he has to suffer in silence, losing sleep over the possibility that Raphael might be dead _because of him_.

He hasn’t heard from Camille in three weeks when she reaches out to him again. This time, however, he’s fully awake.

He’s at a meeting, trying to avoid the sharp glares the Nephilim are throwing him. Simon knows he isn’t welcome here, but he’s also not welcome at the DuMort anymore and well, at least the Shadowhunters won’t actually kill him. Which is better than his clan, he guesses.

He’s listening to Alec discussing war strategies when he hears it. At first Simon thinks someone in the room is whispering something, but after scanning every face, he sees they’re all fixated on Alec’s speech. So maybe he imagined it.

But then there it is again, more audible this time. It also comes with this _feeling_ , a feeling of anger and hatred and bloodlust. The voice is getting louder and Simon realizes it’s in his head, which means Camille is back.

She’s almost screaming now, making Simon’s blood freeze in his veins.

 _Kill, revenge, blood. Kill, revenge, blood_.

Like some kind of sick mantra.

And then Raphael’s face is flickering in front of his eyes and he knows he isn’t dead yet, but he will be soon if he doesn’t warn him before Camille gets to him.

Simon scrambles to his feet and knocks over a glass of water in his hurry. He mutters an apology and makes his way to the door, ignoring Clary calling after him.

He has to do something. He has to warn Raphael.

It’s not hard to find him. Simon has always found Raphael’s scent the easiest to track and all he has to do is concentrate to find it and track him down.

He’s just coming out of a club and, thankfully, he’s alone.

“Raphael,” Simon says, way calmer than he’s feeling. The older vampire jerks his head up and exposes his fangs when he sees who’s standing in front of him.

“Leave!” He commands.

“Raphael, you have to listen to me. Camille -”

“Why would I care about _anything_ considering Camille?” Raphael snarls between clenched jaws. Simon swallows thickly at the expression on his face, but struggles through it.

“You’ll care about this, I swear!”

“Highly doubt it. Now go, before I kill you myself.”

He walks away from Simon, aggressively bumping his shoulder against his as he passes. Simon wants to yell after him, explain, but then a figure drops from a building and lands perfectly in front of Raphael. When the figure stands, Simon sees it’s Camille.

Raphael has good reflexes. Simon knows this because he’s seen them when they used to train, but Camille catches him off guard and manages to throw him against a wall. Raphael scrambles to his feet and hisses, but Camille is already facing him again.

“Traitor!” Raphael screams at Simon as he tries to fend off Camille. Simon is frozen on the spot, too shocked to move.

“You brought her here!”

And – shit. Of course he did. Camille tricked him, used him to find Raphael because she knew he would.

Simon can feel himself heat with anger. She used him yet again and now she’s trying to kill Raphael and _this is all his fault_ and literally the whole entire world would be better off without that bitch. So before he fully realizes what he’s doing, Simon lunges forward and tosses Camille away like a rag doll. When she glares at him, Simon pulls back his lips in a feral snarl.

The fight is ugly.

Camille is strong, having been able to practice for centuries. She knows where to strike and where to bite and how to duck and avoid, even with Simon and Raphael against her. In the end, it’s because she managed to work Raphael to the ground and is one second away from delivering the fatal blow that Simon is able to get the upper hand.

He growls – a visceral, ugly, raw sound – and attacks, clawing and biting and ripping until Camille is weak and begging for her life, blood dripping from her eyes and nose and mouth.

But Simon won’t spare her – would be crazy to. So he tears and pulls and _destroys_ , wrapping his hands around her neck and –

“Simon, no!” Raphael cries out. But Camille is already dead, her head falling to the ground as Simon stands.

The feeling of victory that washes over him is only temporary, quickly being replaced by dizziness and nausea. Raphael catches him before he hits the ground and pulls him into his lap.

“I told you not to kill her,” Raphael says. All the harshness and hate have disappeared off his face.

“But she was killing you.”

“I know. You saved my life.”

Simon nods. His vision is blurring and panic washes over him when he loses the feeling in his legs.

“What’s happening?” He manages to say between ragged breaths.

“Your Sire is dead, Simon. Fledglings usually die with their Sire if the bond with their clan isn’t strong enough.”

Simon’s eyes turn wide with realization. His bond with the clan isn’t strong _to say the least_.

“So – am I… am I dying?” He stutters.

“No,” Raphael says firmly.

“I won’t let you.”

“How?”

Raphael bites his lip, seems to contemplate whether or not to tell him. Then he sighs and pushes Simon’s hair out of his face.

“I can be your Sire,” he suggests.

“It’ll save your life, but it will bond us together. Do you want that?”

Honestly, Simon just wants to not die, no matter what it’ll take them to achieve that. So he gives a curt jerk of his head in an attempt to nod.

“It will hurt. You have to stay calm, okay? It won’t last long.”

Simon nods again. He’s losing the feeling in his fingers now and struggles to keep his eyes open. He’s just so _tired_. He wishes he could just close his eyes and sleep.

But Raphael pats his cheek urgently.

“Stay awake, Simon. I need you to stay awake.”

So he does. Just because Raphael needs him to.

Raphael lifts him in his arms, helps him to sit up straight. Then he gently tilts Simon’s head to expose his neck. Raphael moves forward, noses at his pulse point. Then he wraps his lips around his flesh and sinks his teeth into his skin.

Simon groans in pain. It feels like he’s being set on fire from the inside, like a million needles are being stabbed into him. It’s like something is ripped out of him and he screams, but Raphael continues to stroke his hair and cradle his body to calm him down. The older vampire pulls back momentarily to spit some blood on the ground and then goes back in again. There’s a sick sensation of something being injected into him, like venom. Simon whimpers weakly.

When Raphael finally pulls back completely, the feeling in his limbs returns almost immediately. He’s still in a lot of pain and can barely lift his head to look at Raphael, but he can feel life seeping back into his bones.

“It’s okay,” Raphael comforts him.

“You’re okay. You’re alive. Breathe through it, baby.”

Simon obeys, taking deep unnecessary breaths as his muscles relax and he melts into Raphael’s arms, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Raphael holds him close to him, even presses a light kiss to his forehead.

They sit on the cold pavement for god knows how long until Simon feels strong enough to stand. Raphael helps him up and keeps supporting him once he’s on his feet, a steady hand on the small of his back.

“Now what?” Simon asks. His voice still sounds weak and small.

“Now you’re coming home with me,” Raphael says.

“But the clan – ”

“The clan can’t hurt you anymore – not now that I’ve claimed you as my own. Hurting you would mean hurting me, and they will regret trying to do that.”

Simon nods, then follows Raphael as they start walking. They leave Camille on the streets to burn once the sun rises.

“Hey, Raphael?” Simon says once they rounded a corner.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

Raphael looks at him from the corner of his eye. His expression isn’t soft or fond like it used to be before Simon’s betrayal, but it isn’t as hard anymore either.

“I’m still mad at you, Simon. You broke my trust and it’ll take some time to regain it. But I’m willing to give you the chance to do so.”

“Thank you,” Simon says again. There really isn’t much more he can say.

Raphael nods, then focuses back on the pavement in front of them.

They make it to the hotel right before sunrise, and when the clan hisses and snarls at Simon, Raphael wraps a protective arm around him and publicly claims him as his own.

“You will not touch what is mine,” he states, voice icy.

And Simon knows he’s Raphael’s in the most animalistic sense of the word. There’s no love or affection connected to it, but as Raphael lashes out at a clan member trying to hurt Simon nevertheless, he makes a promise to try everything in his power to change that.

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr prompt: Forehead kiss


End file.
